


Nightmares I Create

by TheHeartInNoDice



Series: Rich Street [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Bottom Richie Tozier, Fix-It, M/M, POV Eddie Kaspbrak, POV Second Person, Post-Canon Fix-It, Slight Movie Recap, Smut, Temporary Character Death, Top Eddie Kaspbrak, canon ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:55:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25954837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHeartInNoDice/pseuds/TheHeartInNoDice
Summary: A companion piece to the main story from Eddie's perspective. What he thinks about it all. Not just with Richie, but the whole coming back to Derry, what his life has come to, and what he intends to do about it.(Don't read before reading the main story, there are spoilers. And it might not make much sense. I mean, if you're already readingBack to Earth, it's okay. But seriously. Companion piece. Like a lime slice to a tequila shot. Or y'know, read it, whatever, I ain't the boss of you.)
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: Rich Street [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1883761
Comments: 10
Kudos: 72





	1. Chapter 1

You're living again. You're _really_ living again, not just literally. And enjoying it. And all it took was a phone call from a childhood friend. Oh, and getting stabbed to death by a monster, then finding _him_ back at the inn, down to his luck amidst bitter booze and bitter tears.

But you're getting just a little bit ahead of yourself.

__

Seeing all your friends again. At first it made you sad that you missed most of each other's lives, but when you think about it, usually friendships end up like that anyway. What matters now is that you've found each other again, and you're not inclined to let that go. 

You want to know all about them, what Mikey's been up to, still living in Bumfuck, Rural Maine. Whatever happened to Florida? Why Bill's books always have a shitty ending. You've never read them because you're not good with horror, but his reputation does precede him.

You want to know about Ben's workout plan, because _damn_. And you want to know despite all the hotness, why he looks so despondent when he thinks no one's looking. You want to know about Bev's brand, and who the fuck left that bruise on her arm so you can do something about it.

And you want to know if it'd be okay to follow Richie to the bathroom and shove your tongue down his throat.

You had a thing for him when you were kids, but you weren't really sure what to do about it, seeing as you were both boys and that was not how it worked. So you kept on being his friend, up until the day he left, with a million promises to call as soon as his family settled in, then never doing so, just like the others.

But now you know why that happened. You all just… forgot. The moment you crossed Derry's town limit line, everything about your miserable yet filled with good times eighteen years of existence started to fog up on your mind. When you were about to reach Bangor, you had no idea why you had tears on your face.

But again, that's the past. And you're not gonna live in it.

Someone mentioned his name at work, and you were curious enough to look up some of his videos on YouTube. It was terrible. You rolled your eyes at the juvenile jokes, wondering if you should call your doctor about the sudden pain in your chest (you did, and you were healthy as a horse, as always).

Seeing him for real though, remembering who he is, now that you know being attracted to another man is completely normal. That's pretty damn different.

And he's not subtle about the way he looks at you, either.

But

You fidget with your ring, your thumb pushing at it furiously, around and around, up and out down to your knuckle.

You had a few good years with Myra, you were friends when you asked her to marry you, and she still remained that fun person she was for a while. You dearly loved her. When the whole 'some fucked-up nutjob bit me and turned me into a monster' thing happened, you couldn't believe how well she took it. How she was okay with being the eternal source of blood you found out you needed.

Three or four years in though, she started showing up her claws, her personality doing a 180 in slow motion. Then all she cared about was babying you, treating you like you needed to be bubble-wrapped. When you confronted her about it, she would get snippy about your 'blood condition', and how you had no way of knowing if something terrible were to suddenly happen.

 _What if you're allergic to garlic?_ Then you decided you were allergic to garlic. _What if the sun starts burning you?_ You wouldn't leave the house without a thick layer of sunscreen. _What if you hurt yourself and people see you healing on your own?_ Well, what the fuck did she want you to do? Never leave the house? Then came the vitamins and supplements, and from that to you starting taking all kinds of shit was just one step.

Slowly but effectively, she killed all the love you've ever felt for her.

And she knew she was doing it too, just like she knew you couldn't leave your reliable source of food. Maybe she resented you for it, even if she'd always deny it if you asked about it.

So you stayed, in this less than healthy codependency, because you didn't know what else to do.

Then you came back home.

And realized you married your mother.

"Well, shit."

You threw up all over your clothes, and had to go to a gas station bathroom to clean up and change. Trying not to touch anything, even though the place looked squeaky clean, and you were the one covered in puke.

You're gonna have to do something about that. About her. What if you could get her to agree to an open relationship sort of deal? That way you won't have to touch her again, because God knows you really don't want to.

Yeah, like that'll ever happen.

You suppose you'll think about it later, when this is all over. Even though you're still not quite sure what _this_ is. A friends reunion to remember the good old times? Then why does it fill you with so much dread?

Then Ben mentions Stan. You remember him suddenly, almost kicking yourself for not doing so earlier. But you suppose that's just part of why you forgot everyone in the first place.

Everything. You forgot everything. Being terrorized by a gang of bullies. By a fucking leper, of all things.

By a demon clown that almost ate your face.

Maybe forgetting wasn't so bad.

The icing on the cake is when you find out Stanley is dead.

You want to grab Richie and get the hell out. And he seems to be of the same mind. You want all of them to leave, Mike included. He doesn't have to be responsible for this, he can just go and do whatever he wants. Fuck Derry.

But Bev mentions you'll all die horribly if you do so, and to be honest, you kind of want to avoid that.

__

The clubhouse. You scoff at the _Lost Boys_ poster. The memories inside that place are almost all fond ones. You remember sitting on that hammock when Richie tells you his family is moving away. Your heart feels like it's made of glass, and he just threw a rock at it. But he swears on all that is sacred ( _Rogue_ from the _X-Men_ , his book filled with jokes and his _Tears for Fears_ cassettes) that he'll call, and when you leave this shithole too, you'll see each other again. Then he sits down beside you, and you're sure the hammock's gonna rip and send you both to the ground, you're both too big for it now. Or maybe the whole place will come down; you never felt like that little cave was a hundred percent safe. But what makes your heart thunder is how you think he's going to kiss you. And you're going to let him, because you want to, so much, it doesn't matter it's wrong. No one is going to know, and you're starting to think you wouldn't give a fuck anyway if they did. But he just hugs you, hiding his face on your neck, trembling a little. He hugs you so tight you can hardly breathe, but instead of reaching for your inhaler, you try to return the hug as best as you can.

You stay like that for what feels like years.

__

You think again about dying horribly when you go get your token and suddenly find yourself inside of a childhood memory. The goddamn leper. Except now you're stronger than him. Yeah, didn't think asthmatic little Eddie Kaspbrak would end up becoming a gym rat, ready to take you on, did you, bitch? Did you? DID

The shit all over you and -oh God- inside you makes you literally want to set yourself on fire. You're gonna need a two hour long shower, then a three hour bath. And a stomach pump.

(Was that Gretta Keene?)

Back at the inn, you throw up black sludge, trying your hardest to get it all out, washing your face to try and regain some control.

Then it gets worse.

Henry fucking Bowers sticks a knife in your face, and oh God, that's gonna get so infected. You give him back his knife like he asked, or maybe not quite like he asked, who gives a fuck.

Ben fixes you up, returning the favor from so long ago. You can't tell him you'll heal on your own after a while, obviously, so you just let him. Then he and Bev help you tidy up the bathroom so you can finally disinfect yourself in peace. Brings back more memories.

When you're done and with a glass of wine on your hand, you ask him about Bev. Instead of replying, he shoots the question back at you, because apparently, neither of you are subtle.

"It's… it's complicated. I'm married, Ben."

"Yeah? And Bev still only has eyes for Bill. They're both married too." He quickly downs two shots of tequila, and you wonder for a moment if maybe all of you are a little alcoholic. Richie gives it away from his appearance alone, Bill has those veins under his eyes. You only hope this whole thing will help you all exorcise at least some of your ghosts.

__

Richie killed Bowers. You wonder how the fuck was he okay enough after being stabbed in the chest to come after Mike, but by now you more than know Derry works in mysterious ways. Terrible, cursed mysterious ways.

He looks so lost that you take him in your arms for a moment, soothing hand on his back and calming words in his ear. He trembles a little, just like that time in the hammock, but he's not crying, just… shell-shocked, you suppose.

You never thought you'd feel relieved over someone's death, and yet here you are. You can't find it in yourself to feel sorry for Henry Bowers. In the end, he was nothing but another loser. A loser bully for the Losers club.

You want to rest. You had a horrible day, and whatever needs to be done, you're sure it can be done tomorrow. Then Bill screws up the pooch, rushing in without waiting for everyone else, and you have to follow. Because Losers stick together.

Back to the haunted house. Back to fucking Neibolt.

It all goes south really quick. You get separated. A spider-thing with Stanley's head attacks Richie, and you freeze in place like a fucking pussy. That's… that's too much for you, you can't handle that kind of thing, you just can't. But it's gonna kill him. It's gonna kill him, and you'll never have the chance to--

Ben deals with it. You feel like absolute shit.

You stick with Richie, hoping for a chance to redeem yourself. But when Bev gets attacked in the water, you can't dive in to help. Still too much of a wuss. But then Richie promises you you aren't. And he actually makes you believe him for a moment. And for a moment, you think Mike's tribal ritual is actually going to work, until everything gets much, much worse. You stick with Richie.

Then the house literally turns into an actual spooky house, with spooky doors. What the actual fuck. You remember Betty Ripsom. And you momentarily forget you're in a monster's lair because of a cute puppy.

You get lost from Richie for a moment because he rushes in front of you, and when you see him again, you almost piss your pants.

He's stuck in the deadlights. 

And you can't just get him down with a kiss. First because he's too high up. Second because Pennywise is right fucking there. You grab hold of your lance.

"This… kills monsters. If you believe it does. If you believe it does. If you believe, it does. If you believe, it does!"

You're not gonna fail him again.

"Beep-beep, motherfucker!"

You got him. You got him! You fucking killed it! You saved Richie! And Richie, it seems he's okay, just a little out of it. You're so fucking happy, you're not a coward anymore. You did it.

Then

Pain

The claw on your chest raises you in the air, then throws you around and you feel something on your leg breaking as you hit the ground. God, it hurts so fucking much.

Can you come back from this? Can you heal? Or is this the limit of your bizarre vampire powers? It missed your heart, but your breathing feels… wet. And you're not healing. Not even your face has healed yet.

You're bleeding so much.

Amidst your pain, you suddenly remember how you almost got the leper. You had thought it was because you were stronger now, and you are, but not just physically. It's like Bev said. You believed he was weak, and he was. If he hadn't barfed all over you, you'd have killed him before he could disappear.

You consider for a moment, telling them about you. About your condition. But what good would it do? If you bit one of them, you'd just make them weak, and they'd lose the fight. And you're not even sure if it would work. You bit Myra two days ago, it should still be working. But it's not, you're not healing. If anything, it's just getting worse.

This is it for you.

You also consider telling Rich how you feel about him. You're sure he knows, but maybe just getting the words out there would be nice. But that'd be pointless, it would probably just get his mind out of the fight. There's no harm in keeping it to yourself. You rather go out with a bang. A bang joke. He still doesn't leave your side, bullying Pennywise as he holds your hand. You'd yell too if you had the breath. _Go, Richie_ , you think. _Go_

And you watch him go.

And you watch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I hate seeing Eddie suffering, I just hate it. It hurts my heart when he suffers
> 
> Also me: *writes this*


	2. Chapter 2

You move your eyes around, blinking.

It hurts.

Your chest hurts so much, your eyes are dry. Your leg is broken and there's only darkness around you.

"...Guys?"

Nothing. Your voice is just a whisper though, and it hurts to speak. You clear your throat and try again. "Richie?" You've never craved a glass of water more in your life. "Where is everyone?" You suck in a raspy breath, and it's almost like you can feel your body rebooting, like a very ancient computer.

Is It dead? Is this one of its tricks? Did it revive you just so it could fuck with you a little longer?

No, somehow your heart tells you It's gone. For good, this time.

Your leg bones pop back into place, and you grunt. Then your back begins to itch, and you feel the skin slowly closing there. Your breathing goes back to normal.

It takes you a moment to realize the thing you're holding is Richie's jacket, and then you notice just how cold you are, so you try to put it on, but you can't really move just yet. Rigor mortis, you suppose.

You died.

Now, what, you're a fucking zombie? Well, you really hope you won't need to eat brains now too, in addition to the blood.

You're so, so sore and tired. Your eyes close without you even realizing it.

When you open them again, you can move, just barely.

You push the jacket out of the way and raise your shirt, and the wound is still there. Just not bleeding anymore. Your movements return while you rest, and after you have no idea how long, you try to stand up.

"Ow." You hit your head on the wall, and when you try to take a step, you stumble on a bunch of rocks. Feeling your way around, you eventually shuffle through the debris towards a soft sound you thought you were imagining at first.

It's running water. And the idea of cleaning up makes you move faster. You still stumble at least five more times, but eventually, you find a small opening out of this hellhole.

The dirty, disgusting quarry water feels heavenly on your skin, down your throat. You know you'll regret drinking it later, but right now, you couldn't care less. The bandage on your face comes off, and you notice that wound is healed too. The one on your chest though, that one is still there, and you have a feeling it won't go away on its own.

You lie down on the rocks, wondering how much time has passed. A few hours? A day? Weeks?

Why are you alive again?

You suppose… you can't die? Maybe? Maybe if someone cuts your head off you might die, but you really don't think it's something you'll have the chance to test, nor would you want to.

A long time must have passed, then. Enough for you to come back to life. So you need time to heal if it's something too serious. Like an emotional wound.

God, shut up.

But yeah, you're finally learning more about the freaky condition you've found yourself in since you were 27, bitten by a crazy old lady, scared shitless and confused out of your mind.

When you feel like you're dry enough, you slowly make your way towards the inn, clutching your stomach and only now realizing you left Richie's jacket back at the hole. But you're just not strong enough to go back for it. Maybe later.

The town looks empty, you don't see anyone along the way. Did you stay dead for a whole century or something?

No one answers to the bell at the inn, so you reach for your key, vaguely wondering if the apocalypse happened while you were dead. 

Your room is empty and clean, they even put new curtains in the bathroom. Shit.

The only other room you remember the number is…

Richie's, obviously.

You reach for the doorknob, and it easily turns under your hand, because of course that idiot would forget to lock it. Now you only have to hope for not too much time to have passed and figure out if he's really still the guest in that room. There are empty beer cans on a corner, and a whiskey tumbler on the ground near the nightstand. But the confirmation comes when you notice one of your suitcases on the floor. He must have gotten them for some reason. You almost reach for some clean clothes, but you really want to wash up properly first.

The shower's running, so you sit on the windowsill and wait.

Richie comes out ass-naked, and you have to remember how to breathe for a moment. Richie is entirely too delicious to be true. You have to force yourself not to be a creep.

"Hi, Richie."

He looks like he's been crying, and you hate to think it's because of you, but you have a feeling it is.

So you explain the whole situation to him. Of course he's a little skeptical at first, but he believes you eventually.

You know you have to call Myra, whether to ask her to come to your aid or at least go home so you can feed, you haven't decided yet.

But then Richie offers you his blood.

Shit. You can't do that. You can't hurt him. You can't take advantage of him like that. But then as you quickly come to realize, Richie can be very, very insistent.

You've only ever tasted Myra's blood. But Richie's… is so much sweeter, so much tastier. You're still careful not to take too much, though, you've learned to rein yourself in the first time Myra punched you in the head after you wouldn't let go.

He's still standing as you get your fill, but you can tell he's pretty much asleep on his feet, so when you're done, you carry him to the bed, reach for your medicine bag and patch him up. Then you go looking for something to eat, because he'll need it. Luckily, you find someone in the kitchen, and he makes a big breakfast tray for you, even though it's probably past midnight.

When you come back to the room, Richie's still asleep, and you'd be worried, but you have a feeling all the empty cans in the room and how loud his stomach is rumbling might have something to do with it. So you go ahead and use his shower, sighing loudly at the relief the burning water brings to your muscles. The wound on your chest is gone before you finish drying yourself.

You sit down next to him, watching him sleep. He's so beautiful, sleeping innocently like the angel he absolutely isn't.

You have to busy yourself with that idiotic bird on your phone so your thoughts won't wander.

When he wakes up and you talk about Myra, you finally understand you just can't be with her anymore. You're still unsure about what you're going to do about it. Until Richie all but tells you he's in love with you.

You can't control yourself anymore. You kiss him so hard, you can barely taste it at first. And it's still the most perfect kiss of your life. Because he reciprocates hungrily.

Of course it doesn't take you long to realize you can't do that. You can't be with Myra anymore, but you can't just cheat on her either. You already feel bad for being with her when you clearly don't love her, that will just make it worse.

You send her a text and go to sleep, and when you wake up, you realize your mistake. Because she's even more neurotic than you, and in this case, she has every right to be. You read and quickly reply, telling her to go home because you need to speak in person, and when she insists, you tell her. You're so fucking sorry, but you want a divorce.

She doesn't buy it.

Well, shit.

Next you talk to your lawyer, and he instructs you on how to act and everything you need to do. You had a feeling he would say this, but you're not allowed to sleep with anyone.

He doesn't say anything about kissing, though. And you really want to kiss Richie again.

He wakes up, and you're almost sure he's jerking off in the shower, and when he comes back, ass in the air again, you can't help taking a picture. He looks like a god. A hairy, flabby and pasty-white god. You can't stop looking. You wanna bite his broad shoulders all over, not to draw blood or anything, just to leave a mark on him. You want to run your hands through his legs, his arms, his chest. You wanna lick him all over.

When he jumps on you like a big teddy bear and you kiss him just like you've wanted to, lust fuddles your mind, and you briefly consider for a moment ignoring your lawyer's orders, because you're both really, _really--_

Then you see Mike again.

Luckily, he takes your explanation easily. Apparently, spending his life studying a supernatural force has left him open minded enough to accept what you are.

When you go to confirm with Richie that he's okay to go back to Manhattan with you, he has a crisis, something you never knew you would have to deal with. You reassure him as best as you can, feeling terrible for him, that he's been going through all that shit his entire life. You really wish you could be of more help. You really, really thought he was out. Excluding his stupid, unfunny straight jokes that he doesn't even write anyway, it doesn't look like he tries to hide it or anything. Not with the way he was blatantly eye-fucking you in front of everyone at the restaurant.

Later, he takes you to the Kissing Bridge, of all places, and shows you the 'R+E' he's carved on it. Your heart melts. You spent your whole adolescence walking by that bridge and thinking, that could be you and him. But of course it wasn't. Richie didn't like you like that.

Except he did.

How you wish you hadn't forgotten. You wish you could wake Pennywise up just so you could kill him again for doing that to you. You could have spent your whole life together. And he fucked it all up.

Back at the inn, you tell your other friends about how you're a fucking vampire and whatnot, and Richie's offered you his blood. And you really hope they believe you when you say it's not harmful to him in any way, he'll only feel a little weak for a few minutes after you've bitten him, but you'll take the utmost care of him. You'd never put Richie through anything dangerous, ever, and you wish they'll understand this.

After the call, Richie tells you Ben and Bev got together, and you're so, so happy for them. You're going to text Ben later about it.

Then Richie wants to fool around, and you realize you have to say no, because you know you won't be able to stop yourself before anything serious happens.

You want to kiss him until he's breathless. You want to blow him until he passes out. You want to fuck him against a wall.

For now, you settle for a peck and a promise.

__

You are not going to jerk off in a cramped bathroom at a dirty rest stop in the middle of nowhere. You absolutely will not, even if you're practically ripping through your pants.

Richie just smells so good, though. You stopped so you could both stretch your legs, and while he's buying snacks in the convenience store and taking care of the car, you're here, thinking about him like that. Even though you know he wants to bone you just as bad as you do, the thought that you can't just yet annoys you to no end.

So you just take a deep breath, adjust yourself and leave.

Later, when you imagine going down on your knees and sucking him off in the shower, you're not surprised how little it takes for you to come.

And you wish you could hear his own fantasies when he comes out. Would he tell you? Probably. He looks so debauched leaving the bathroom, you don't doubt he got off too, he did say he would. 

You wish you were the one getting him off.

But he just wants to cuddle, and you have to bite the inside of your cheeks so you won't blurt out how fucking cute this is, because of course you want to cuddle too. You want to do all these things with him. And Richie sounds so much more innocent than you ever thought he would. He's been living in the closet after all, which you find really sad. You literally just want to hold him and tell him everything will be okay.

Even with your mind dazed with sleep, you wonder for a moment if he's a virgin. He talked about fooling around with some girls, but never going too far because his dick wouldn't cooperate. Not that it matters, but if he is, you only hope you can show him the best first time someone could ever possibly have.

__

You feel like a total dick for waking him up like you did, because after seeing the panic in his eyes, you remember you were in that very same position when you got stabbed. But Richie is quick to make light of it, like always, so you prepare to get things on track.

Richie almost gives you a panic attack with his weirdass pope joke, but of course he wants to be with you, just as much as you do.

You leave him on the bed, because he still looks a little tired, and he doesn't have anything urgent to take care of. Unlike you.

After a quick breakfast in the hotel's restaurant, you only call Myra once to let her know you're on your way.

__

It feels weird ringing the doorbell to your own house. But soon it won't be your house anymore. She loves it, and you really want her to keep it. When Myra answers, she's already crying, and you know the difference between her real and her crocodile tears. These are real.

"Oh, Eddie. We can work this out."

You shake your head at her, already feeling terrible. "You know it's too late, Myra. It has been too late for a while now."

You usher her inside so you won't give the neighbors a show, and give her a handkerchief as she sits down on the couch. You sit on the opposite one. "Always. I've always only wanted what's best for you, Eddie. I always took care of you."

An old voice in the back of your head tells you that usually it is the man who is supposed to take care of the wife. Your mom's? No, if it were up to her, you'd never even have left the house, let alone get married. Probably one of her sisters, who are almost as bad as her. But you really don't want to lead with something so innocuous and pernicious at the same time as that. "I've never needed to be taken care of, Myra. I never wanted that."

"But… but… if I don't, then who will?"

"Me. I'll take care of myself. Just like I've been doing ever since I left my mother's house. I don't need… I don't need another mother."

She gapes at you. "Are you… are you implying what I think you're implying? Because I'm nothing like Sonia, Edward! What… what happened to you on that trip you took? You said you were visiting your childhood friends. Did they say something about this? Were they the ones that put those ideas in your head?"

"What? Are you crazy? Of course not! They don't even know you!" Berating your friends? If that's not proof that she's basically turned into your mother, you don't know what is.

"I don't know about that, Eddie. I got a friend request from someone named Mike, and he's from your hometown too. I didn't accept it, of course, but I've seen them. Pictures of them. That disgusting horror writer? The bumbling comedian? These are not the type of people you're friends with, honey!"

You can't take much more of this. "Don't talk about my friends. They're the people I grew up with, and we went through so much shit together that you couldn't ever possibly understand."

"Oh yeah? Like your little bloody secret? Did they feed you every month for almost thirteen years, never telling anyone about it? Because I think that's just me."

"I…" You falter for a moment. "I'll always be grateful to you for doing that for me, Myra. I swear. If there's anything you ever need from me, don't hesitate to ask."

"Then--"

"Just please don't ask me to stay. I can't. Not anymore. I'm sorry."

"But Eddie, who's going to take care of-- of your… needs?"

You know she doesn't mean it sexually, but you can't help it if that's how you take it. Besides, it's still going to be the same person anyway. "I… I met someone. And he knows about it. He's okay with it." Since she's too shocked to speak, you quickly continue. "I didn't cheat on you. And I know you'll believe me because you know I'm a lousy liar. We did kiss, but nothing else happened." You try not to think about how intimate just holding Richie last night felt, because that wouldn't be of any help.

From this point on, she's the one having difficulty looking you in the eye, and you can't blame her. You still talk some more, but she has no arguments left, and you've already said everything that needed to be said.

You don't even know how long the talk lasts, but when you leave, you're hungry, against all odds, so you set up lunch with your lawyer.

__

That talk takes way longer and when you're done, all you want to do is crawl on top of Richie and hold him tight, with your face on his neck and fall asleep smelling that familiar scent.

Your body has a different opinion though, at the mere thought of Richie. And you're not gonna make him wait anymore.

You drink half your bottle of antacid, send him a text, asking where he is, and he heckles your typing proficiency. Whatever. He still understands you just fine. He always does.

In the drugstore, you grab a pack of condoms, then two more. They don't have as great a selection of lube as you'd wish, but you see something that makes you think of Richie. His loud clothes that always make you think of holidays, his abrasive exterior but sweet personality. Then you rush back to the hotel, only yelling at two other drivers on the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone interested, the timeline I have in my head is Eddie met Myra (in a David Bowie themed bar called Deca _dance_ ) when he was 26, got bitten at 27 and they got married at 30.  
> Also she was [a cute goth girl in college who dyed her hair black. Unfortunately, things change.](https://clownmovieblues.tumblr.com/post/627272061090480128/so-uh-heres-a-random-goth-myra-edit-i-made-for)


	3. Chapter 3

Even though Richie's not a virgin, he's still inexperienced, and you want to give him all. Everything he deserves. Even if he deserves the moon and the stars, you'll do everything you can to see that happening.

Right now you'll settle for an earth-shattering orgasm, though.

You can't believe how hard he makes you come. The noises, the faces he makes… you drink it all in, and it's better than any liquor, any blood, anything.

You love everything about him. How cute he sounds so fucked out and out of breath, how messy his hair is, the taste of his sweat. And when you fall asleep with your arms around him, it's like the universe has finally fallen into place.

__

After you recover from the shock of having slept for almost 12 hours, Richie convinces you to let your beard grow, something you haven't done since your 20s (and one single rebel occasion in your 30s), then gives you a blowjob too perfect for an amateur.

Following a very nutritious breakfast, you go back for seconds. Of Richie, of course.

He says he only wants to bottom, which quite frankly, you can't complain about, since the only experiences you had bottoming yourself were not quite to your taste. Sure, the prostate stimulus was good, but in the end, it was too much of a hassle and not enough payoff. Plus, cleaning lube off your ass was a bitch.

And you really do want to fuck him again, as soon as possible. Except you also want to suck him off, desperately so. You hope he won't get mad, after all, you'll have time to make it up to him.

Again you can't get over how good he sounds, how good he tastes. You've never gotten so hard so fast just from giving someone head. Just from having your tongue licking every inch of someone. He comes beautifully, keening and flailing on the bed.

When you're both back on earth, you tell your friends the good news, via Richie's phone, and he doesn't stick around to see what they'll say. It's fine though, you know everything's gonna be alright.

__

He's worried about your health, but not like your mom used to be. Not like Myra. It's the opposite, actually. He thinks you might be overdoing it. That the shit's all in your head.

Sometimes you think about it. Because it's not like you were feeling particularly sick when you started taking whichever kinds of over the counter pills that you came across. But as time passed, you kept thinking, why stop? The chance for any kind of disease will only increase the older you got.

Except Richie has a point. You can't remember ever having been really sick ever since you got bitten. You got a cold once, but you got over it in less than a day. That's it.

(Public pools are still gross though, and always will be.)

While looking through apartments, you can't get over how much you like spending time with Richie, even the moments he's just sitting there using his phone, being quiet for once. You just like knowing he's there.

Pool or no pool, you do end up choosing a place you know he'll like too, and you take care of all the documentation quickly and efficiently with the help of your so trusted lawyer.

He pulls you to the shower once again, on the last night at the hotel, kissing you like he's a starving man. "Eddie, I want you to fuck me."

You breathe hard on his neck. "I know, Rich, you've got your point across."

"No, I mean, like… like… push me on the wall and give it to me. Hard. I've always heard the expression 'feel it in the morning', and… and I want that."

It's been four days since you got together, and it seems with every intimate moment between the two of you, Richie comes out of his shell more and more.

You like taking him gently, but you can't deny how his words hit south instantly. "Alright." You bring him down by his hair, not really pulling, just directing him to your lips so you can kiss him sweetly. "Give me your glasses so they won't fall. Not gonna break them again so soon, right?"

He quickly gives you the glasses, and you place them over the sink. "Won't be seeing much besides these tiles anyway."

You get two lubed fingers inside him, because whether he wants to be sore from it or not, you won't risk hurting him. "Just tell me, okay?" You bite his shoulders, just like you had wanted to do a couple of days ago when you saw him naked back in Derry. "If you need to stop."

He hisses from the bite, but pushes back against your mouth. "Yeah. Fuck, that's good."

You bite again, hard enough that you can see your teeth marks afterwards, but without breaking the skin. "Yeah? The fingers or the teeth?" You brush his prostate, and he pushes back against you again, with his whole body.

"Ah… everything. Don't stop."

You're not planning to. Fingers working relentlessly and teeth back in action, you shower in his sounds more than in the actual water cascading above your head. Then you get a firm hand on his back, and he braces against the tiles. You get more lube on your hand and stroke yourself quickly, just to slick up. You've been ready to go for a while now.

You guide yourself, and Richie all but pulls you inside. You're not really sure how hard he wants you to go, so you try a few fast thrusts with your hands on his hips. He moans, and you can tell he's biting his lip. You lick the water from his back, sucking kisses along his spine, until he asks you for more.

So you stop and ground yourself better, thrusting hard and watching mesmerized as you disappear inside him over and over. When you look up, he's biting his arm and looking back at you, and you have no doubt that's the sexiest image that's ever graced your vision. You stretch your neck as best as you can to kiss him, but the angle doesn't make it easy, and you're both panting too hard for it to be a proper kiss anyway.

"I'm not stopping until you come, Richie." You think you can hold on for a while longer. Because this was his wish, and you want him to have it all, the way he wants it.

"I, ah… yeah, I'm gonna…" He doesn't move his hands from the bathroom tiles though, so you reach out to take his cock in your hand. "No, no no."

"No?"

"Uh-uh." He grunts, looking back again. "Just… a little longer?"

Oh. Oh God, that's so hot. You kiss his back, hands returning to his hips. "Okay. This good?"

"Yeah. Just faster."

So you fuck him faster, and his voice gets higher, until he's biting his hand with a scream, squeezing you tight as his whole body shudders.

It's the first time you see someone coming untouched outside of porn, and it's almost too much for your brain to compute. With a couple more thrusts, you're over the edge, your arms rising to his chest to hold him against you as you rest your head on his trembling shoulder.

__

Richie has a lazy smile on his face the whole day while you're out shopping, and he wraps an arm around your shoulder whenever he wants to say something just for you. Every time he does it, your heart flutters as if you were a teenager.

You have clearly different tastes when it comes to decorating, and in the end you tend to lean towards his preferences, even though he's not going to live there with you, and is even going back to his own home in a few days.

You try not to let that thought bring you down, because you've already agreed you'll be seeing each other twice a month, with sometimes you going to Chicago and sometimes he coming over. Richie's schedule isn't as consistent as yours, in fact it's all over the place, so deciding on something more than that would probably lead to disappointment.

But you're so not ready to see him go. And your free days are over. You curse yourself for not doing more overtime, but work had been so stressful before Mike's call that all you wanted to do when it was over was run to your car and go home.

While you make coffee, amidst your correspondence you catch a letter from Stan's wife, and your heart stutters. You wonder if you should wake Richie up so you can read together, but he looked so peaceful when you left him.

Oh, Stan. You know how he felt. He almost had his face eaten too, and the last time you saw him, he still had the scars to show for it. You were afraid too. Terrified. If only you could have been there for each other. If only you hadn't forgotten. It's the thought that has been plaguing your mind the most the past few days. It's like you've had curses looming over you your whole life. Your beloved smother was a curse and a half. That town too, and the clown. Then the vampire thing. You're not sure if you believe in karma, but if it's a real thing, you only hope you've paid enough for whatever horrible person you could possibly have been in a previous life.

You smoothen out the letter on the table, easing up the creases your angry fingers left, leave Richie a note about it, run a finger through your eyes and leave.

You take off his shorts and blow him on the couch when you get home, and later on, he rides you on the new bed, just like the insatiable beast that you knew he was.


	4. Chapter 4

"So guess what. I talked to Patricia Uris. She likes to be called Patty, actually, but you know what, I think Pats would suit her just fine too, because--"

You gasp. "Richie! Are you serious? What… What did you guys talk about?"

"Just… getting to know each other, I guess. She sounds really sweet."

"Yeah? We should…" What? Invite her over? To your house or his? Are you including your friends in this? "We definitely should get to know her. Save her contact on my phone for me?"

And while you overindulge in Richie's spaghetti, you reminisce about Stan.

"I always thought he had a crush on Bill, y'know?"

Richie almost chokes on the wine. "You thought Stan had a crush on Bill? Tell me just… just how differently our minds worked, Eddie. Because even though I carried a huge fucking torch for you, whenever I thought the words 'boys' and 'crushes' in the same sentence, I thought my stomach was going to burst. Whether from vomit or to literally kill me, I can't be sure."

"Eugh, don't talk about vomit while we're eating, what the fuck. And I don't know. I was trying to figure out my own feelings. I mean, you said you had a thing for what's his face, Bowers' cousin?" You shake your head. "Couldn't have picked anyone better, could you?"

"I didn't know! Besides, I only liked his company. And pretty eyes."

You grin. "Well, I kinda had a thing for someone too. And it was a girl. And then there was the way I felt about you. So I was confused as hell. Sure, Bowers threw insults around all the time, but everyone did. And a lot of it was bullshit. Especially the way they talked about Bev. So I kinda just… didn't care anymore? I mean, I was still confused when I left, but I didn't let it bug me. So yeah, I thought Stanley had a crush on Bill."

Richie seems to consider this for a moment. "Well, if that's true, do you think he what, just forgot he liked guys or… I was just surrounded by bisexual people, wasn't I?"

You shrug. "In the end, I can only really speak for myself. I don't doubt he loved Patty, though."

"Yeah, me neither. Regardless of what he remembered, Stan wouldn't settle for a fake life. Not someone as outspoken about himself as he was. Hey, I never told you about his Bar Mitzvah, did I?"

__

You make Richie a banquet. A healthy, nutritious banquet, because he wants you to bite him before he leaves, and you're not going to have him passing out again. You know it's a good idea; when he fed you in Derry, you only got enough to make sure you'd finish healing. It still doesn't stop you from feeling guilty.

Then he gets hard from it, and wants to do SM shit you have no idea how it works. You think you're terrible at it, so you just make love to him, trying to show him how much he means to you.

__

Richie kisses you in the airport, and you're so proud of him for it. You're gonna miss him so much these two weeks. You work in a daze, counting the minutes for lunch time just so you can speak to him again.

He sounds nervous, and the only reason you don't panic (too much) that he regrets the whole thing is how he talks about all the shit he's been cleaning around his house to wait for you (he even found a notepad filled with some old jokes!), and how he's been chatting with Bev about calling her and Ben for a double date at some point when you're all in New York.

When the day to go see him finally comes, you find out why he sounded so fidgety over the phone every time you spoke.

He didn't know you loved him? It occurs to you you've never actually said it out loud up until that time in the airport, but you really thought he knew, that it was implied. Then you want to kick yourself when you remember Richie's not used to intimacy. You should have made it clear from the beginning. Myra beat the habit of saying it out of you with how much she insisted you'd say it constantly. It felt cheap. With Richie, it doesn't.

Because you love him so deeply, so hard that you'll never get tired of letting him know.

\--

You talk to Patty a lot too, all of you do, and one day, she decides to get rid of the tiny little secret she's been keeping.

_Stanley… he's in a coma. He didn't want me to tell you, but I can't lie to you anymore._

She's still talking about the letter he left her, how his last words to her when she broke down the bathroom door were a plea not to tell anyone, that it needed to look like he was dead, and you're sitting here in a coffee shop, ignoring the dirty looks the person cleaning the floor beside you is probably giving you since you just dropped your fancy latte. You read the words over and over.

_Stanley is in a coma. Stanley is in a coma. Stanley is in a coma._

Stan is alive.

Everyone in the group chat is typing at the same time, asking if they can come to see him, but she asks you not to. She has faith he'll wake up, and she'd prefer your reunion to be on happier terms. She does send a picture of him, sound asleep. He looks serene. He looks just like you remembered, except for the beard.

You've heard the expression 'crying in the club', and you're crying in a coffee shop, ignoring the other patrons, ignoring the whispers of 'isn't that Richie Tozier's boyfriend?' and just smiling as your tears hit the phone screen.

Richie never came out officially, because he didn't think he was famous enough to make a big deal out of it. But he never hid his affections when you two were out and about, and phones and cameras would flash your way. For every venue that closed its door to him, another one opened, and for every follower he lost, he got two more. You're both pretty satisfied with how things turned out, even if sometimes you want to clobber an intrusive paparazzi. Or literally anyone that talks shit about him on social media.

What you're not satisfied with, though, is how little you see Richie. Whenever he comes over, he just glomps you at the door, and you don't leave the bedroom until he has to leave. When you go to see him, you go out more, to bars, comedy clubs, to dinner. It still always ends in the bed, and you still can't get enough of him before the time to go home.

Would it be completely crazy to… would Richie even want to? What if things change because you're seeing too much of each other and you both get tired of it? What if he needs time away from you every once in a while to… decompress or something?

You don't even know what that means.

He saves you the trouble of asking by announcing he's moving to New York. Maybe. But _that's_ crazy. Because he has his own life in Chicago, his fixed gigs, his manager. You, on the other hand. You can do your job anywhere.

You think Mike will take good care of your apartment.

__

After a night of celebration in the reunion with your friends, Patty included, you wake up with the hangover of your life, only for it to pass half an hour later, as it always does. You vaguely remember Mike telling something about a village in Sweden, or maybe Norway where they know how to end the vampire curse. Was that real?

Whether it is or not, you're going to have to think on it. You know just how unnatural it is. You are. But you're used to it by this point. The only downside really is having to take blood from Richie. If only you could change that part. Even if he loves it, and gets so hard from it you immediately blow him after every single time, you still don't think it's right.

You watch him sleep, drooling a little on his pillow, and your heart fills with so much affection you have to hold back a sob.

You'll probably talk extensively with him about it later, but for now, you just put on some clothes to go make breakfast for your guests. You still have to discuss who's going to host the next get-together.

__

You're sitting by the pool, just about to call Richie over to get some of the margarita you just made. But he looks too good swimming on his birthday suit, so you wait a little. Your phone dings and a message from a new number pops in the group chat.

"Someone care to explain why my wife just showed me a picture of her sitting on some pirate's lap?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whether they're gonna go after the cure or whatever, is irrelevant, they live happily ever after regardless
> 
> [Pirate Eddie](https://clownmovieblues.tumblr.com/post/627283886490206208/and-heres-pirate-eddie-for-the-the-thing)
> 
> Leave kudos if you liked it so I'll know I'm not total shit at this [and go watch me make a total clown out of myself](https://clownmovieblues.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Title of the story (and series) taken from "Rich Street" by Colorscheme


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